The road snakes its way past the farm house
Where the red barn
Brown cow
Pigs cat dog
Hauls the hay
And picks at the pantry
The old lady
Bent over
Sizzle, the eggs
Hard work
Bad back
As the smell of the cowboy
Spooks the lonesome traveler
As the black car
Smoke fumes
Escapes the pipe, coughing
The hitchhiking vagabond who doesn't believe
In you me them or god
Smokes his joint as the horse watches him
Black eyes
Stare.
And the sweat rolls off the labourer as the hobo
Hums and strums and licks
And spits at his harmonica
Everyone's watching
Through a window we call our eyes.
It's a slow day
Mist and moon
There's no time for thinking or waiting
The road snakes its way down
Horizon swallows it up
It doesn't matter
Where it goes
Promises kept unkept
And lies like the spider
This web beautiful
But traps unsuspectfully
Creatures.
Inhale.
Exhale.
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